


Good As Gone

by AlexandraO



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 15:37:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14547927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexandraO/pseuds/AlexandraO
Summary: Hermione leaves, saying goodbye with just a note. When she returns, can Harry forgive her?





	Good As Gone

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Santa Monica by Theory of a Deadman
> 
> This piece was part of the Sing Me A Rare B:Side OS Competition Spring/Summer 2018. I had a choice of song and I could choose my own pairing. All characters, spells, magical equipment and locations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. I’d like to thank my beta and alpha who will be unveiled at the end of this competition.

Harry Floo’d home to find Ron sitting at the end of the large, brown table in the kitchen, his face buried in his hands.

 

“What’s wrong, mate?” Harry asked, taking a seat as Kreacher placed his dinner in front of him.

 

Ron just shook his head and pointed to the piece of parchment in front of him. Harry pushed back from the table and practically jumped across the table. He recognised Hermione’s handwriting immediately. He quickly read the letter, his eyes barely comprehending the words scribbled across the parchment.

 

“She’s gone?” Harry asked, his voice cracking.

 

Ron nodded. Harry stood for a moment in disbelief before crushing the note in his fist and taking off at a sprint to the upper level of the house. Her note said it all, but he needed to see it with his own eyes. Reaching the second-floor landing, he threw open her door without bothering to knock. The disbelief was gone as soon as he saw her room; it was empty. Even the pictures of them that used to fill the walls were gone. The only thing left was the sheets on her bed. Letting go of the crumpled piece of parchment, he crawled into the bed pulling himself up to the pillows. He pulled one over his face and inhaled, smelling traces of her shampoo and perfume. Only then did he let himself succumb to his emotions. The tears flowed freely down his cheeks, only to be caught by the pillow covering his face. He was in love with her, and she was gone…for good.

 

**_One year earlier_ **

 

“Hermione!” Harry basically shouted, bounding down the stairs before wrapping his arms tightly around the witch. He hadn’t seen her since the Christmas holidays.

 

“Harry, so lovely to see you too,” she said, giggling, returning the hug. She pulled away, but kept her hands firmly on his arms and didn’t hide when she looked him up and down. “You’re looking fit.” She blushed as she said it and clamped a hand down over her mouth as Harry laughed and blushed a little as well.

 

Ron appeared at Harry’s side, and Hermione embraced him too.  Harry felt a coiling in the pit of his stomach which he deciphered as jealousy, but he had nothing to be jealous about. He knew Ron and Hermione were just friends and to be honest, he didn’t have a right to be jealous. He and Hermione were also just friends, after all. Though, he had plans to change that very soon.

 

Harry and Ron both helped Hermione settle into the house, mainly levitating heavy boxes up the stairs to her chosen room. She wouldn’t let them help her unpack, claiming she preferred to do it the muggle way. Ron had grumbled something under his breath at that and left the room, but Harry smiled and leaned on the door jamb watching her. He liked that she still embraced her muggle heritage despite being magical.

 

She turned around realising Harry was still there. He turned red when she caught him and stumbled over some barely intelligible words before swallowing his embarrassment and walking out of the room. If Hermione was confused by his actions, she didn’t let on. But by the third week of him still behaving like a fool, she cornered him in the hallway next to her bedroom and demanded an explanation.

 

“Harry James Potter! You have been practically ignoring me for weeks. We have been friends for years and all of a sudden you can’t even look me in the eyes. You—”

 

Hermione didn’t get to finish her sentence as Harry swooped in and placed his lips on hers, closing his eyes. He pulled away almost immediately, and started to apologise before Hermione threw her arms around his neck and snogged him within an inch of his life. Finally, coming up for breath, she smiled at him, her lips swollen from his kisses.

 

“So this is why you’ve been acting odd toward me?” Hermione said, smiling.

 

Harry nodded. “I was staring at you from the door that day you were unpacking and I just kinda stuck my foot in my mouth. I was embarrassed and thought you had me all figured out.”

 

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione sighed, placing her hand on his cheek. “You shouldn’t have been embarrassed. I’ve loved you all along.”

 

Harry swallowed at her admission. “You what?” he asked, thinking he hadn’t heard her correctly, but praying that he had.

 

She narrowed her eyes playfully. “I know you heard me, Harry Potter,” she told him, but repeated herself anyway, pausing in between each word. “I. Love. You.”

 

“Thank Merlin because I love you too, Hermione.” Hermione then smiled that sweet, coy, smile that made him go weak in the knees and pulled him into her room by the front of his shirt.

 

Months passed, and Harry was in complete bliss. Some might call it the honeymoon stage, but Harry felt it was more than that. He had loved Hermione for a long time and each day just cemented that fact. Each morning, they parted ways in the ministry atrium with a kiss and each evening, they found themselves wrapped in each other’s arms. She was a dream that had finally become a reality. Before the defeat of Voldemort, Harry never thought he could live a normal life, a happy life. But now that was over, and he realised that he could. And he could with her.

 

**_Present Day_ **

 

Harry laid in his bed staring up at the ceiling, much like he had in the months since she left. Hermione had spent many nights in his bed, but the smell of her shampoo on the pillows had finally dissipated, leaving him craving her now more than ever. It was a struggle to get out of bed most days knowing she wouldn’t be there. He just couldn’t get her out of his head.

 

The doorbell rang, and Walburga Black’s portrait wailed. No surprise. It was an everyday occurrence. Harry rolled over in his bed and covered his head with a pillow, trying to drown out the sound. He just wanted to go back to sleep. No matter who stood outside, the only reason anyone came was to ask the same question, “How are you doing?” He was tired of the questions. Some days, his childhood at the Dursley’s seemed like a dream. They left him alone for days at a time. He knew he shouldn’t think that way, but he was beyond caring.

 

The portrait finally stopped screaming nonsense, and Harry closed his eyes once more. Just as soon as she stopped, she started again. He strained his ears to see if he could find the source and only heard the sounds of faint voices.

 

Harry pulled the covers back and groped blindly at the bedside table, searching for his glasses. After finding them and placing them on the bridge of his nose, he picked up a pair of sweatpants off the floor and put them on, intent on going downstairs. He couldn’t continue to leave Ron to bear the brunt of the various people coming to call on him at all hours of the day alone. Slowly, he made his way down the stairs. Not really wanting to go, he forced himself to take one step at a time and let the guilt seep in. If he felt anything but, he might find the motivation to turn around and leave Ron alone with another caller.

 

Reaching the main floor, he pushed open the door to the kitchen and his breath caught in his throat. He froze, not able to walk fully into the room. The two continued to argue, his presence going unnoticed by both.

 

“Ron, please! I don’t have anywhere else to go!” A familiar voice rang out. Oh how he had dreamed of hearing her voice again, even if it was the screeching she usually saved for when he and Ron were doing something stupid.

 

“Hermione, don’t!” Ron shouted, back. “You left! Now, I don’t have a lot of room to judge after my actions during the war, but come on, Hermione! How could you do this to Harry? He loved — loves you! And you broke his heart.”

 

Looking up, Ron’s eyes met Harry’s and shook his head. Hermione followed Ron’s line of sight and whipped around to meet Harry’s gaze.

 

“I’m sorry, Harry. She pushed her way in. I—“ Harry put his hand in the air to stop his friend from talking.

 

“It’s fine, Ron. Leave us be for a moment, yeah?”

 

“If you’re sure.”

 

“I’m sure. Thanks, mate,” Harry said, nodding. Ron left and neither Harry or Hermione spoke. They were frozen where Ron had left them, unable to tear their gazes away from each other. Finally, Harry looked down at his bare feet before raising his eyes once more and speaking.

 

“Why?”

 

She visibly gulped and tears gushed from her eyes almost immediately.

 

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I thought I wanted to go out into the world and —“

 

“And what?” Harry asked, keeping his voice calm. He didn’t have the energy to fight. “What were you looking for? What did you think you’d find? How could you leave without saying goodbye?” The questions spewed from Harry’s mouth unguarded and unfiltered. Everything he kept under wraps the last few months was finally coming out.

 

“I left a note. Did—“

 

“Leaving a note is not saying goodbye!” Harry shouted, interrupting her, finally losing his temper. More tears streamed from her eyes at his tone, and he immediately felt guilty. “I’m sorry.” He shook his head in defeat. He was at a loss of what to do…what to say.

 

“Harry, I’m so sorry,” Hermione said, finally moving toward him. She tentatively laid a hand on his shoulder, and when he didn’t flinch away, she wrapped her arms around his middle and laid her head on his chest. He felt her tears soaking his shirt, both their bodies shaking from the sobs.

 

“You left me,” Harry choked out. “You left me for Santa Monica. A place where dreams come true. How could I compete with that? Ever?”

 

Hermione just sobbed harder. He only just heard her whisper, “It’s where dreams ruin you.” Harry wrapped his arms around her tighter and lowered them into one of the chairs surrounding the kitchen tables. He lifted her legs, so they were sprawled across his and sighed. How could they get past this? She’d been gone for months, and he’d been in mourning. Barely moving from his bed some days.

 

Finally, when Hermione’s sobs quieted, and she was only sniffling, she lifted her head from his chest and looked him in the eyes.

 

“I can’t explain why I left or what I was looking for in Santa Monica, but I do know why I came back,” Hermione whispered. Harry tilted his head to the side and waited for her to continue. “I came back for you. It was always you. I’ve come back to you if you’ll have me?”

 

Harry sat there for several moments, unsure of what to say. Of course, he wanted her back! He had been dreaming of this day since she left. But was it really that easy? He thought. Could he accept her back into her life just like that? He smiled because he already knew the answer. He didn’t need to ask himself twice.

 

“You never even needed to ask,” Harry said, placing a kiss on Hermione’s forehead. She leaned into the kiss, and they both sighed in contentment. Harry knew that not everything would be back to normal right away, and they would face many obstacles, but he wasn’t going to turn her away.


End file.
